


Slip Up

by clouder (selfinduced)



Series: Getting Lucky Drabble Verse [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:33:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfinduced/pseuds/clouder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>porn battle prompt: captivate, flight, domesticity, mess hall</p><p>The first time Mitchell slipped up, he was crashing from adrenaline and stupid with post near-death optimism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip Up

The first time he slipped up, he was crashing from adrenaline and stupid with post near-death optimism.

Cameron vaguely remembers hooking an arm around Sheppard’s neck, grinning maniacally. “God but you’re pretty” he’d breathed, tilting his head in close.

Then he’d fallen—stumbled, really, and Sheppard had caught him, shocked face recovered into a smirk.

-

The second (and a bunch more times after) are all during sex, like the last time when he’s riding Sheppard in the pilot’s seat of Charlene. (“You named your F-302?” “You don’t name your Jumpers?” “No?” “Oh.” Awkward pause. “You wanna?” “Here?” “I’ll get the hatch.”)

It’s actually kind of romantic, with three moons high above the pier open to the deserted 302 bay. Cam loves what Sheppard’s doing to the side of his neck, and the hand on his cock and really, he just sort of loves Sheppard—John, and this is really a bad time to be thinking stuff he can’t say, but he’s so close it makes him crazy.

He arches his back and lets his head fall back onto Sheppard’s shoulder, moaning a thick and low and desperate, “John,” turning his head farther until the unthinkable word is muffled, bitten into Sheppard’s skin.

The response is immediate: Sheppard turns his head and grips him close with an arm around his chest and kisses him and kisses him as they come.

-

The thing is, Cameron hadn’t figured he’d have to work so hard to not slip up and admit to, you know, liking the person he was having sex with on a regular basis. Maybe gay sex was different somehow, but you’d think a certain amount of communication would be required to maintain over a year of fucking like bunnies—it’s not like that’s all they do.

Yeah, okay, sometimes when they’re talking and alone, they forget what they’re talking about because they get distracted by the kissing but the point is, they do talk. Sometimes.

-

A side-effect of the slip ups seem to be that Sheppard’s taken to being careless—leaving marks on Cam’s hipbones and below his ribs and one last night on the edge of his collarbone that’s driving Cam crazy every time his t-shirt brushes on it.

Cam doesn’t take it as a sign or anything when Sheppard, during a lull in the day, pulls him by his vest down an empty corridor to some conveniently appearing closet and shoves him up on the wall.

“Hey” Sheppard smirks, fingers hooked in Cameron’s belt loops and stroking his thumbs up the ridge quickly forming between them, and fucking nuzzles his neck. Nuzzles!

It’s sweet and makes Cam’s stomach do a funny melty thing, especially when Sheppard pushes his whole body close and draws in a deep breath, murmuring “Missed you” all quiet and husky like it’s—like they didn’t roll out of the same bed a few hours ago or this isn’t just a—a not thing.

And dammit. What the fuck is he supposed to think?

Cam’s head hits the door behind him none too gently and he sort of almost forgets about it except—

“…too hard, I don’t really wanna explain chafe marks in the locker room.”

Cameron gulps. “Chafe?”

Sheppard has that gleaming look in his eye that’s scary as hell and conversely makes his dick jump that much higher, and next thing he knows, he’s being tied up with the straps of his own thigh holster.

He groans and laughs at the same time, hopelessly turned on and stupid with warmth at the way Sheppard’s fingers brush the insides of his wrists as he swallows Cam’s cock.

-

Later, he doesn’t touch the spot on his neck right below his collar every five seconds to feel the sore spot of a hickey any more than he spends more time staring at Sheppard’s ass as he leans against and bends over the controls in the gateroom.

(The same way he doesn’t smile when Sheppard tosses him his favorite spiky green fruit in the mess hall or comes by to stand next to him close enough to brush shoulders when he’s working on Charlene.)

He really really doesn’t get a squeezing feeling in his gut every time McKay looks up at Sheppard with his eyes all wide and bright and mouth falling open with wonder.

He does, however, manage to not step up and place his hand on Sheppard’s lower back, lean in and kiss his neck wet and warm just the way that makes his breath hitch and his ass push back against the front of Cameron’s BDU’s like he just can’t help it.

Sheppard notices anyway, smirks at him and makes sure to be in the corridor when he’s going for a lunch break. Steers him towards Cam’s quarters instead and presses him against an inside wall with a hand on the middle of his chest, keeping Cameron in place with his whole body and grazes none-too-gentle teeth down his earlobe, accusatory. “You distracted me.”

“Sorry,” Cam mutters, hands busy stroking under Sheppard’s waistband. Then, “Didn’t think you’d notice—you were kinda busy. You know listening to McKay— ”

Sheppard breathes out a laugh, short and knowing, “Jealous?”

“What? No! I’m—it’s just—you know. He wants—and,” Shit shit shit what is he saying? This is not supposed to happen, Cam hadn’t planned on a way to respond to this and why didn’t he? What the fuck was he thinking? It’s just that—they don’t really talk and, he didn’t expect—and, shit.

“I mean.” He tries again, keeps his face neutral and Sheppard doesn’t seem to be moving away or anything, just. When he glances up, and Sheppard is staring at him, a little openmouthed and God, he wants to kiss it, all the time, forever, and. Shit. So much for neutrality. It’s got to be all over his face how bad he wants this, wants Sheppard, and how it’s so much more than want and anything they could ever actually admit to, let alone talk about.

But Sheppard’s cupping his face and kissing him. Soft and sweet and slow—it should be weird because while it’s not completely foreign, it’s not their usual and right now it’s kind of cruel and unusual to let Cam have this and know it might be some weird fluke, the last time—he moans into it anyway, legs falling open to let Sheppard step in even closer, arms curling around his waist to let himself hold tight and give himself up.

When they pause for a breath, lips still clinging together, Cameron mouths the word quietly, almost inaudible. Almost.

“Yeah,” Sheppard breathes into his mouth, “me too.”


End file.
